Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Barron

I pull on my suit jacket, the fabric sliding over my shoulders to sit perfectly, as only a tailored suit can. While it’s much more formal than what I had anticipated, Holly’s dead set on this look for today’s photo shoot.

Regardless of how many times I point out that today’s billionaires, like Elon Musk, don’t typically run around in a suit and tie, it hasn’t changed her mind.

With a resigned sigh, I double-check the knot on my tie before heading out. The muted notes of an old rock song filter in from below. Well, at least someone is enjoying their afternoon.

As I round the corner into the kitchenette, I spot a basket of fruit sitting in the middle of the counter. A red apple, about the size of my fist, catches my eye. I pluck it off the top as I pass through and take a big bite.

The basket is a nice touch. I’ll have to thank James for that later. Just then, I catch sight of the table I had brought in and am reminded I have company. My shoulders sag. How could I have forgotten?

I step around the couch and backtrack, continuing to Mother’s room. Taking a bite of the apple, I knock and wait, but there’s no answer. Could she be taking a nap?

I check my watch. I hadn’t expected to sleep in so late, but with everything that happened, I didn’t leave the club until nearly seven. Add that to the restless night before, I crashed hard once I finally went to bed.

Turning my attention to the next door, I’m hit with a flash of annoyance. Abigail’s room. Could she and Mother be in there together? Of course she’d be there, chatting with the daughter she never had.

I stride over to Abigail’s door and give two sharp knocks, but again, there’s no response.

Disappointment washes through me, and I’m not entirely sure why. Is it because they’re not here or because Abigail didn’t answer? I stare at the door for a few seconds before catching myself, and my absurd reaction.

Without a second thought, I turn the knob, open the door, and step in. As expected, the room is empty. Still, I continue into her space, leaving the door open behind me.

The damn backpack that started all this mess is sitting on the floor next to the custom nightstand while the laptop sits on top. The complimentary robe Holly insisted on is draped across the foot of the bed.

No matter how much I try talking to Mother about being careful, about keeping people at arm’s length, she doesn’t want to hear it. Look at what Abigail managed to accomplish. Did she even consider the consequences of her actions?

I lower myself to sit on the bed and glance around. She’s hidden every other item away, leaving the room practically immaculate. If not for the slight dent in the pillow, I’d have assumed she didn’t sleep here.

Or did she? The last time I saw her here, she was moving into the room with my mother. So, why did she come set up in here?

I stretch out on the bed. Taking another bite of the apple, I try to imagine myself in her place. She has a full ride in terms of education. I made sure of that. Yet she’s come back to live at home, running around in a new car my mother bought her.

If I were a little gold digger, what would I be up to?

I close my eyes, surrounding myself in her world. The first thing to find me is the scent of her shampoo lingering on the pillowcase. I turn, breathing deep. She showered earlier, so there’s no telling—the image of her taking off that robe takes center stage in my mind.

Curves. Bare, damp skin. An ass that makes you want to…

My cock stirs with unexpected interest.

Fuck .

I shoot up to a sitting position, alarm coursing through me.

What the fuck was that?

I shouldn’t be thinking about her in this manner. I’ve spent the past several years resenting her. And now she’s taking advantage of my mother.

So then, why am I imagining her naked? Why does the thought of caressing her skin make me hard? Why does the mere sight of that damn robe make me hard?

But even as the question crosses my mind, I’m reminded of how Abigail looked when she was moving through the shopping area yesterday. Curves in all the right places, long flowing hair. Her expression changing from embarrassment to defiance and back when she faced me.

The robe catches my eye again.

Trouble…nothing but trouble.

Time to go. I push myself off the mattress and stride out of the room, Abigail’s image growing stronger in my mind with every damned step. Utterly stupid.

But what if I’m wrong?

I’m not.

I’ll check with Holly to see if she knows where they are. I might be able to meet up with them—her and my mother—if they’re out for a late lunch.

Just then, the door to the suite opens. I lengthen my stride, expecting to see them returning. Instead, I find James coming in, a garment bag draped over his arm.

“I’ll be right there,” James says into his phone then ends the call. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barron.” He greets me with the usual respectful bow of his head as he walks behind the couch.

“Hello, James,” I reply, hiding my disappointment. “What have you got there?”

“It’s a delivery for Miss Holly,” he explains, holding up the bag.

“Wouldn’t it be better off in her suite?”

“She needs it for the photo shoot.” James smiles. “She said to bring it up to your spare room as soon as it was ready.”

“Fantastic.” Why did I assume this wouldn’t be such a big deal when she mentioned it? At this point, everybody’s taking residence here. It’s a private suite, yet I have more traffic through here than LAX.

“Yes,” he agrees politely. “It must be an exciting time for Miss Abby.”

My back stiffens.

“Abby?” I take another look at the garment bag he’s holding. “They’re doing the photo shoot with Abigail? Right now?”

My annoyance must have slipped into my voice because James immediately stands up straighter. “Yes, Mr. Barron. The message said it was for Miss Abby’s photo shoot.”

Of course, he’d be eager to bring something to Abigail. Then an unwelcome suspicion creeps into my head. Could he be the reason she’s decided to stay in that room at night?

I’ll be taking care of you personally, night and day.

“I’ll take it,” I state firmly, holding out a hand.

He hesitates. “Are-are you sure? I don’t want to?—”

“I’ve got it.” Reluctantly, he hands over the bag with something about the size of a shirt. Is it that I’m taking this over or that he was dead set on seeing Abigail? Either way, I’ll handle it from here. “Do you know where my mother might be?”

He nods quickly. “Mrs. McClelland is at the spa, sir. She will be having her hair done then taken for the photographs scheduled at the captain’s table.”

“All right.” So I won’t see her again until this evening at dinner.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, that’s all, James.”

I turn and retrace my steps down the hallway, passing my bedroom and the office before arriving at the last door. Muffled music filters from the room, along with a man’s voice calling out instructions.

Holding the bag at arm’s length, I knock at the door. Seconds later, Holly sticks her head out, her eyes widening as she sees it’s me. Or, more likely, it’s that I’m holding the bag she’s been waiting for.

“Oh. You’re up.” She steps out to join me in the hall, catching sight of the bag. “Is that for me?”

“You had James deliver this,” I state, handing her the bag.

Her eyes widen. “Oh yes.” She reaches for the hanger.

I take the opportunity to address the other bit of business I wanted to discuss with her.

“You were right about Bronwyn,” I begin, watching Holly’s expression. The report Dante’s people put together in a matter of hours proved to be an eye-opener.

Holly freezes, the garment bag dangling from her hand. “How bad is it?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“ Maiden is the last thing anyone would have called Sally Jo Mobley before she changed her name.”

“Sally Jo?”

“Small town, Midwest, alcoholic father, mother working two jobs. Sally started getting in trouble as a teenager.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” she says, sighing.

“She and her previous assistant were brought up on charges for keeping a photographer at a cabin against his will. She claimed the assistant hid the keys to the rental after a weekend of photos and fun. Everyone was stranded for days, including herself.”

Holly frowns. “Is that why she’s been in Europe?”

“The DA decided not to charge her, so the assistant got screwed.” I shake my head. “This is the first job she’s doing stateside.”

Did she think I wouldn’t do a thorough background check after that stunt? In this day and age, when a ten-year-old social media rant can come back and literally sink a company, everything has to be scrutinized.

Holly’s brow furrows at the implication. She got a firsthand view of what Bronwyn is capable of. I doubt she needs additional details.

“There’s no way Bronwyn O’Neal—or Sally…Jo—can be the face of Maiden Cruise Lines,” she says with a stern expression. “Not after all that. And what she tried doing last night.”

I’m not sure how much of her reaction is fueled by a genuine dislike of Bronwyn and how much is concern for the company. But if Dante’s people were able to compile this report, it’s only a matter of time before someone else finds the same information.

“Well, Indulgence is intended to be an exclusive venue catering to a certain clientele,” I remind her. “What happens at the club is meant to stay at the club.”

“I understand that.” She sniffs. “I don’t care what she does in her private life. But considering she’s supposed to be the ‘maiden,’ that’s not the reputation I want for the company overall.”

After seeing the pictures included in the report, I have to agree. I’ll consider giving her a spread as part of the PR package, but this isn’t the person who’ll be representing my company.

“With her reputation, a good PR company can spin it to fly as kink,” I admit with a shrug. Though I’m left wondering what she had to do to keep from getting a mugshot.

“I don’t want this blowing up in our face on day one.”

“So what do we do?” I ask, wondering what she’s planning.

“We can use her to do promotional work for the club, and keep it contained to the on-board network,” she suggests.

“So, you don’t want to tell anyone the club exists?” I don’t understand how she thinks this will help promote the place.

“Every person who comes aboard will know about Indulgence. They’ll find out the same way they did about the private party for the grand opening.” A hint of a grin plays at her mouth. “Last night was invitation only, and you saw how that went.”

“How many people did you invite?” As good as she is, I doubt she could have interacted with that many individuals.

“Twelve.”

I raise a brow. “Twelve? The place was packed when I got there.”

“I told them they could tell a friend, but it was all very hush-hush.” Her grin grows wider at my shocked expression. “People were still talking about it this morning.”

“So, you’re off the hook for more all-nighters?” I ask, only half joking. She may have a magic touch when it comes to promotions, but managing the club is out of her league.

“I think Elliot will be good to manage it on his own after today. One of us can just pop in periodically to oversee things.”

One of us, which means me.

“Okay. Now that Bronwyn’s out of the picture, does that mean I don’t have to worry about photos?” It’s the one silver lining from this entire mess.

“No. I actually came up with the idea of doing boudoir photos for Maiden,” she says with a smug smile. Lifting the cover, she reveals a white scrap of thin material with a belt of some sort. “What do you think?”

Even through the front and back layers, I can see the color on the wall behind it. An unexpected flare of…protectiveness sparks inside me. She wants to parade Abigail, or some other model, around in that outfit?

“You have Abigail wearing this?” I ask, incredulous.

“It’s tasteful,” Holly insists.

“It’s transparent,” I counter bluntly. And that skirt will be lucky to cover Abigail’s generous curves. My cock stirs as an image of her in this flimsy outfit comes to mind.

Holly gives me an exasperated look. “The whole powerful man in a suit,” she says, waving a hand up and down my chest, “with the innocent-maiden scenario will be epic!”

Did she really think I would approve of having a woman wearing this? Much less having that woman be Abigail.

Holly blows out an annoyed breath. “Fine. I can get someone else to do it,” she snaps.

I grunt. The thought of some random guy putting his hands on Abigail makes me want to rip somebody’s head off.

“But let’s face it. You’re the epitome of the powerful billionaire, businessman,” Holly continues, her hand waving to indicate me. “Anyone else would probably look like a caveman next—” She pauses, clearly caught on an idea. “Oh, a loincloth…” She narrows her eyes. “I bet Rhys would make a perfect caveman.”

“What the?—”

“This is for the boudoir photos of the Maiden.” She sets her hand on top of the bag. “If you don’t like the direction I’m going, we trash the idea. We can keep her in the other outfit being tailored for her to wear around the ship.”

“Other outfit?” She’s already done a lot, considering she got the idea yesterday.

“Come, take a peek.” She waves for me to follow. “She’s already gone through three pieces. You’re going to love the direction I’m taking this, I promise.”

With a sigh of resignation, I brace myself for whatever Holly thought up. My mind is already racing ahead, wondering what she has Abigail wearing.